


New Years 2014 (aka The Story of Ichabod's Beard)

by hollowlife



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowlife/pseuds/hollowlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just my little goofy fanwank as to why Ichabod Crane decided to grow a beard. A one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Years 2014 (aka The Story of Ichabod's Beard)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in December 2013, hence the New Years 2014 scenario. I'm a few months late :')  
> Of course show canon up until New Years 2014!!
> 
> Not beta'ed. Comments and Kudos loved and apprecated.

**New Years 2014 (aka The Story of Ichabod's Beard)**

Abbie took a sip of champagne as she looked around the table at her demon-fighting pseudo family and sighed a little. This was nice, she thought. Like a real family.

It was New Years Eve; 2014 was almost upon them. Abbie has insisted that they spend New Years at Corbin's cabin. For his first New Years in modern time, she wanted to do something quiet and low-key. She didn't want to deal with any loud obnoxious partiers and revelers so the cabin would be perfect; nice and isolated. Some dinner, conversation and lots and lots of champagne.

Jenny surprised Abbie by wanting to join also. 

"Really? Thought for sure you'd want to party with some of your military buddies."

Jenny shrugged her shoulders. "Eh. Not this year. I would rather be away from it all, something simple, you know." So when Abbie opened the door to let Jenny in, she was surprised to see her not alone. Abbie's boss, Captain Frank Irving stood next to her, his hand resting on the small of her back.

"Captain! What a surprise!"

Irving looked over at Jenny. "You didn't tell her?"

Jenny shrugged her shoulders.

Irving just smirked. 'Gotta love you Mills sisters." He handed over a small bag which contained two bottles of wine. "Wife's back with her parents. Macey decided to join, so Jenny graciously included me in your little party. Hope that's okay?"

Abbie smiled genuinely. "Not a problem at all, sir. Glad to have you, Captain."

"No, no titles, Mills. Frank is fine."

Abbie smiled again. Since their little Headless Horseman capturing mission, her respect and admiration for her Captain has grown by leaps and bounds. He was one of the very few people who now understood what Crane and her were facing as God's chosen Witnesses. He saw the crazy firsthand, and had become an amazingly supportive ally. This was Abbie's makeshift family and she was thrilled.

"White or red?" Jenny called from the kitchen.

"White." Irving replied before addressing Abbie. "So where's our war hero?"

"Ah. Well, I told him for tonight, he is required to dress normal for once. 21st century. So of course he's in the bedroom complaining about the clothes."

Irving laughed. "Hey Crane! Get out here. We wanna see your style!" To Abbie he snarked. "Why do I expect to see him come out in a nasty brown tweed jacket and loafers?"

Jenny now joined them, handing Irving a glass of white wine. "Nah. I expect to see him in a smoking jacket and one of those fancy little neck scarves."

Abbie couldn't help but laugh out loud as she pictured this, almost spilling her own drink as the images formed in her head. "No, no. I told him. Informal and casual. No dressing up." Abbie wanted to be comfortable for the evening, so jeans and a T-shirt for her and Jenny. Irving was casual in jeans also and a black cotton golf shirt. 

"Yes, Miss Mills did indicate that I was not to make an effort, as it were. It seems that this era has lost the respect fine formal wear would indicate." Crane now stood in front of the group and held his arms out. "So, is this acceptable for tonight's festivities?" He asked. Ichabod was wearing a pair of boot cut straight leg black cotton pants and a plain grey henley shirt, long sleeves rolled up to the elbow and surprisingly untucked. He had decided to leave his hair loose, the thick shoulder length strands delicately framing his face. On his feet were black leather boots, conspicuously covered by his pant legs.

"Wow, British boy. You look really good." Jenny grinned, giving him a slow once-over. 

"Thank you, Miss Jenny."

"Looking slick, Crane." Irving nodded approvingly also.

Abbie had to admit he looked really attractive. Crane's choice of outfit was perfect for someone so tall and slender. There was nothing fancy or expensive that Ichabod was wearing but on his lean form, the clothes hung perfectly and looked amazing. She had to admit, he looked pretty damn good...

............

They spent the next few hours snacking on various finger foods, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and sharing crazy stories.

The four moved to sit in front of the fireplace. Abbie on one end of the couch, Jenny on the other and Irving smack dab in the middle. Contrary to his usual stiff form and posture, Crane voluntarily took a seat on the floor, right in front of the fireplace. He sat cross-legged, champagne flute in hand, directly facing the couch occupants, and Abbie had to chuckle at how casual, relaxed and modern he appeared. With his hair swinging loose, Abbie swore he looked like a modern day Jesus, or at least resembled some band member straight out of the 90's grunge scene.

Irving now looked down towards Crane. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you this?"

Crane's eyebrows arched up in interest. "Yes, Captain?"

"So I've been doing some research on the late 1700's. Figured I could learn a little about the time you lived in, the culture and stuff like that. Apparently men in the 1700's were very short for the time. Average guy was like five foot six in height. So how'd you get so tall?"

Crane laughed a bit. "I do not know. I was quite short and skinny until my 16th year, then grew rapidly. My mother was quite cross, actually, as my clothing obviously no longer sufficed. She procured three tailors just to suitably attire me at great expense."

"I wish I was five foot six." Abbie grumbled. "I stopped growing in 8th grade. When I was 13 years old." She added, clarifying for Crane.

Irving went on. "And what's with the beard? From what I read, very very few guys wore beards. You guys considered them to be something that only a lower class person may have had. The majority of men never had facial hair. But Abbie says you're supposed to be from nobility. So why the beard?"

Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while rolling the stem of his glass between thumb and index finger. "Is my facial hair so odd?"

"No, not at all. Lots of guys have beards, goatees and even long hair. It's anything goes these days. But you were living in a time with a high demand and requirement for conformity." Abbie pointed out. "Kind of like a woman wearing pants back then. Probably illegal, but also weird and totally out of place. 

Crane pondered this for a moment, nodding his head as he did. "Are you sure you are interested in my tale? It is a long story."

Abbie refilled each of the now empty glasses with a newly popped bottle of champagne from the ice bucket that was sitting on the floor next to her legs. "Let's hear it."

"Well, there are two reasons as to why I sport a beard. And Captain, you are correct. Men rarely wore facial hair in my time. I am...was an anomaly."

"I'd say you're still an anomaly." Jenny whispered to Irving, who chuckled a little."

"I heard that, Miss Jenny, and no more so than yourself, she who is newly released from the asylum." he shot her a snarky look.

"Touché, Crane, touché." Jenny laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry, continue the story."

"I was twenty-two and a lieutenant in the 22nd regiment of the British army. The regiment had camped overnight. As a low ranking officer, I shared a tent with another lieutenant, Gideon Harvey. Lovely chap. Fantastic sense of humour. Excellent drinking mate. That day, command decided that we would camp overnight, rest and acquire nearby resources. It was approaching winter and food was scarce. Gideon and I ventured out and managed to capture four squirrels, which we roasted that eve. They were quite excellent, I must confess."

"Squirrel! Are you serious? Ugh, that's vile." Jenny said, while Abbie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Miss Jenny. You have to understand. We had very little provisions. The King's men had delayed in restocking our supplies. We had no shopping market or citadel as you do to acquire supplies. There was little choice. Make do, or starve."

"Squirrel though? I don't know, man." Irving shook his head as he cringed a little. "Alright, continue."

"Oh! I should first explain. In my time, every soldier has his own knife and it was our most prized possession. I had broken up many a fight over a simple blade. One knife for everything. We would prepare food with that implement, dine, shave, repair tools, cut cloth, cut hair and even kill men with it. It was for our every need and most valued. When Gideon and I returned to camp, he set about preparing the squirrel for the spit with his own knife. He later used that same knife to consume our fine repast. We had much brandy that evening and both of us passed out in our tent."

Crane paused for a moment, taking a long pull of his champagne before continuing his story.

"The next morning, orders came to pack up quickly and immediately begin a march. We had a mere ten minutes to tear down our tent, pack up supplies and head out. Gideon was very conscious of his bearing and of his appearance, much more so than I. So that morn, he insisted on shaving and would not leave unless he accomplished this task. I set about gathering our supplies to provide him time to shave with his own blade. However, in his rush, he cut himself several times."

Irving nodded his head knowingly. "Well, that doesn't sound....good. He used the same knife that he used to clean the squirrel carcass. The same knife that he ate with. And I bet he didn't clean it before shaving."

"No, he did not. No one would have fathomed this at that time, myself included. We thus set out on the march. In a few hours Gideon developed a fever. We barely made it to our resting spot. By then, he was delirious, pale and drifting from consciousness." Crane paused, looking down to the floor, clearly still upset over this occurrence. He took a deep breath, raised his head and resumed his story "Two days later, Gideon perished. The physician did not know why - to him it was an unexplained malady."

Crane paused again for a few moments, lost in thought under the gaze of the others, who were fully engaged in his tale. Crane shook his head a little before continuing. "For some unknown reason I thought of that blade and Gideon cutting himself whilst hurriedly shaving. I made the decision to never shave again after that episode."

"Man. Sounds like he died from blood poisoning. The knife was all contaminated from gutting the raw dead squirrel. Then he's eating with it, then he cuts himself. All that bacteria managed to get into his blood stream." Irving paused, then said ironically, "Too bad he didn't dip the knife in the brandy."

"So what did people say about the beard?" Abbie asked.

Crane let out a mirthless laugh. "I caused quite a stir when I allowed my facial hair to grow. My superiors ordered me to present a proper appearance, but I refused. For my disobedience, I was given ten lashes and put into the stocks, as it was unbecoming of a soldier to appear so ungroomed."

The silence in the room was palpable.

"Oh my god, that's terrible." Abbie whispered, eyes wide, hands now covering her mouth in horror.

"Christ, just over some stupid facial hair." Jenny mouth curled into disgust. "That's sick."

Crane shook his head at the ladies' reactions. "Punishments in my time were not as..." he bit his lip, thinking of the correct word to use. ".. _civilized_ as they are now. My commander was considerably lenient on me."

"That's lenient?" Jenny said in disbelief.

"Remember that, Mills, whenever you think I'm being a hardass." Irving said dryly, though he too was clearly appalled at the severity of punishment in that times.

"And you never thought, screw this, I'm just going to shave." Abbie asked, ignoring Irving's comment.

Ichabod surprisingly laughed. "I believe I did most of the time I was wallowing in the stocks. But I took this as a test of my fortitude and stubbornly refused. They eventually let me be, as a soldier with a beard was far superior to no soldier at all. So this is why I sport a beard in the first place. Then I found that it was most helpful when dealing with my subordinates."

"How so?" Abbie asked. She had usually so hesitant to ask Ichabod much about his life back in his own time in fear of upsetting him. But she was fascinated in learning as much as she could about him and his unique experiences during his time. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the atmosphere, but Crane was very open and talkative right now.

"As I mentioned, I was twenty-two and a lieutenant. I had reached my full height, but was quite lanky. Much thinner than I appear now."

"How is that even possible?" Jenny said in disbelief.

"Very. Prior to Gideon's sickness, I was quite a spindly stick. Also, clean-shaven, I looked much as a child. I was not taken seriously in my role as lieutenant. In the three months that followed Gideon's death, I suddenly filled out. I really cannot explain it. The food was as sparse and poor as before, and our daily toil and labours quite exhausting. But I became much more solid. With a full beard, I appeared much older than my years. And as you mentioned earlier, Captain, men were much shorter. So for me, I now presented a more authoritative and intimidating presence. With my height, I could loom over my charges and make quite a stern and commanding impression." Crane nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "And now you know why I sport a full beard."

"Crane, if I forget to say it later, I'm really glad you are sharing this with us." Abbie herself was utterly fascinated and was dying to know more about him. She was loving the fact that he seemed to be really enjoying sharing stories of this 18th century life. 

"Thank you, Miss Mills. It is sometimes difficult for me to recount and reflect on my former life. It is always a harsh reminder of what I have lost." Despite his words, Crane now smiled at the trio. "But I will admit that I do enjoy sharing these tales with you." 

Crane now held out his glass as though he wanted to make a toast. "Happy New Year to my 21st century friends and family. Cheers."

In unison, Irving and Jenny both replied "Cheers."

Abbie grinned with happiness. I'm so glad I did this, she thought to herself. This really is my real family. She raised her own glass in the air. "Happy New Year, everyone."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Irving mentions that few men in the 18th century wore a beard and from my quick and limited research, this is mentioned several times. Most men in the 18th century were clean-shaven. Learned men and upper class men tended to be clean shaven. It was both the fashion at the time, and also indicated that they were considered honest and trustworthy, as the men were not "concealing" their faces.  
> I originally thought up the fic because I thought it was interesting that the show had Tom Mison grow a beard for the role, since it technically would be considered unusual for the time. But it suits the character (and Mison) so no complaints here.
> 
> Also, the show already mentioned the fact that Crane is much taller than most guys in the 18th century. From Medieval times, the height of men (and woman) slowly declined until the 18th century, where an Englishman averaged 5 foot 5 inches. So Crane literally would tower over most of the men at that time.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this little fanwank. Comments and Kudos always adored.


End file.
